


felix felicis

by skyclectic



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Eventual Romance, F/F, Happy Ending, Liquid Luck, Magic, Potions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: “Let me get this straight. Professor Jung asked you to give Potions tuition?”“Yes,” Tzuyu deadpans, glaring at Dahyun. They’ve been through this about a million times already since Tzuyu told them over lunch earlier.“To aseventh-year?”Tzuyu turns her glare to Chaeyoung. “Yes.”----Or the one where Tzuyu, fifth-year Potions prodigy  is asked to tutor seventh-year Im Nayeon who is failing Potions. Miserably.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Im Nayeon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 174
Collections: Push & Pull: A Natzu Writing Collection





	felix felicis

**Author's Note:**

> written for the #natzuwritingcollection and for two of the biggest natzu fans i know, @xylomylo and @likeuwuahh <3
> 
> thank you to my wonderful beta readers and my friends who always 1) put up with me complaining about writing; 2) indulge me when i rave about an idea; 3) are just my awesome support pillars <3

The car pulls to a stop right outside King’s Cross Station, behind a row of sleek black London taxi cabs. Her father mutters a curt instruction to their driver to grab a trolley for Tzuyu’s things, before stepping out of the car. Tzuyu watches as he tugs on the lapels of his trench coat, adjusting the way it drapes over his shoulders.

A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells Tzuyu that she’s running late, but she allows her mother to pull her into a brief hug. 

“I promise I’ll write,” she murmurs into the crook of her mother’s neck. She breathes in the familiar smell of Chanel No. 5, her mother’s favourite perfume. “I’ll send Gucci with letters and stuff.” 

Her mother pulls away. Her eyes remain soft even though her smile is a little strained. “We’ll keep a lookout for the owl then.”

Tzuyu pretends she cannot read the hint of wariness that clouds her mother’s face or the way her father has his arms crossed outside the car. It’s what they do for each other, ever since Tzuyu first got her Hogwarts letter. She and her parents carefully toe the line between the two worlds Tzuyu belongs to. It’s easier that way — to separate the magical world from the mundane Muggle one — because no matter how hard Tzuyu tries to explain Quidditch or what she learnt in Potions or Transfiguration during the term, her parents will never be able to understand. Not completely. 

It used to chafe at her when she was younger, especially when her pureblood friends tell her of their summers at home with the rest of their magical families. But Tzuyu is older now. And maybe a little wiser. She takes what she can get, and settles for the compromise. Because at the end of the day, her parents still love her enough to send her off at King’s Cross Station every September 1st. 

They love her. And that’s always been more than enough. 

  
  


/

  
  


By the time Tzuyu steps onto Platform 9 ¾, there ’ s only five minutes left to spare. This close to departure, the platform is brimming with peo ple. Older students are running around yelling for their friends, some already dressed in their school robes and some still in their everyday clothes. Train conductors and parents add onto the cacophony of noise — busy ushering students onto the train or saying their goodbyes. 

Tzuyu sidesteps a young girl sobbing into her parents’ arms — a first-year probably — and pushes her trolley along the platform, keeping a lookout for her friends. Gucci hoots indignantly, ruffling his feathers when Tzuyu picks up speed, breaking into a light jog. 

It doesn’t take her long to find them: Dahyun with her wavy blonde hair and blue and bronze scarf around her neck, and Chaeyoung dressed in her favourite overalls with that ugly blue doll she loves in the front pocket. Both wear matching grins, waving wildly at her. 

Tzuyu breaks out into a smile and practically runs over (much to Gucci’s chagrin). With Dahyun’s help, Tzuyu heaves her trunk onto the train just as the final whistle blows. Chaeyoung makes a wild grab for Gucci’s cage, cooing to him softly before he has a chance to protest the mishandling. Gucci (the traitor), lets out a low contented noise; he’s always had a soft spot for Chaeyoung. 

True enough, when they’ve settled into their compartment and Tzuyu lets Gucci out to stretch his wings, her owl chooses to perch on Chaeyoung’s shoulder. Before the train has even pulled away completely from the station, Gucci is already asleep, one wing tucked over his eyes.   
  


It’s drizzling by the time the train pulls up at Hogsmeade station hours later. They’re all dressed in their school robes now, and Gucci is back in his cage. After lugging their trunks to the point where the carriages would pick them up, the trio make their way outside the station, where the thestrals are waiting to take them to the castle.

Tzuyu trails after her friends, only half-listening to their squabble on what’s the best dessert served during the Great Feast. She’d much rather take in the hum of life from the forest around them and the way the fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet. Each breath she takes in smells like rain, minty grass and damp earth. It’s cleansing in a way that makes Tzuyu feel refreshed. 

When Dahyun and Chaeyoung climb into an empty coach — still deeply lost in their argument — Tzuyu takes a minute to greet the thestral attached to the reins. It lets out a deep rumbling breath when she reaches out to stroke its neck. Then, loud cheering from somewhere behind them startles Tzuyu and the thestral exhales roughly, as though the noise had shocked it too.

Thanks to her height, Tzuyu can easily see what’s going on over the heads of the other students around her. Not that she really needs to. Tzuyu would have recognised  _ that _ obnoxious laughter anywhere. 

Just outside of the station, a group of older students are shooting colourful sparks at each other in some kind of messy game. The sparks from their wands light up the sky in bursts of colourful fireworks. Tzuyu recognises the seventh-year girls: Sana, a fellow Slytherin, Momo and Jeongyeon from Hufflepuff. There’s also Jihyo, the sixth-year Gryffindor prefect who looks torn between glee and disapproval at her friends’ antics, and Mina, the quiet Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. 

Right in the middle of the chaos though, is Im Nayeon, her green and silver tie wrapped around her head like a bandana. She’s laughing wildly, her wand raised in the air with red sparks spilling from its tip, more and more until they take the shape of a tiny dragon. The beast flies through the air, roaring fire as it chases after Jeongyeon, Momo and Sana, who hurriedly climb into a nearby coach to escape. Nayeon beams when the small crowd that had formed around them cheers her on, looking very much like she greatly enjoys all the attention. Jihyo smacks Nayeon’s shoulder, saying something to her that Tzuyu can’t hear over all the cheers and whoops of delight as Nayeon’s dragon flies over them, brushing its wings over their heads.

Nayeon scowls but concedes when Jihyo crosses her arms, looking positively stern. Even Mina is shaking her head at Nayeon now, although she has an amused half-smile flickering across her face. With a sigh, Nayeon makes the dragon disappear with another careless flick of her wand. Then, (for reasons that escape Tzuyu’s mind), she takes a bow to more cheers from the crowd and accepts Mina’s outstretched hand. Together, the three of them disappear into the coach with the rest of their friends.

It's all so completely  _ unnecessary _ , so boastful and over-the-top that Tzuyu finds herself at a loss for words. A quick glance at her two best friends shows that she’s not the only one with that same thought. 

“Well,” Dahyun says, as Tzuyu climbs into the coach too and settles into the space beside Chaeyoung. “I guess they wanted to start their final year with a  _ bang _ .” 

Tzuyu snorts, but merely shakes her head wordlessly when Chaeyoung raises a questioning eyebrow in her direction. It was an impressive bit of magic, but she just doesn’t understand what the whole damn  _ point _ was — what exactly did Im Nayeon stand to gain from making a sparkly dragon chase after her friends like that?

  
  


/

  
  
  


The sun is barely up when Tzuyu enters the Great Hall for breakfast. The entire castle is still cloaked in a sleepy kind of haze, but Tzuyu has always preferred the quiet — she can at least enjoy her breakfast in peace before the rest of the student population turns up. 

As if sensing her presence, a paper-owl lands on the table in front of her, narrowly missing Tzuyu’s goblet of orange juice. Gently, Tzuyu retrieves the copy of the Daily Prophet tied to its leg and tucks one knut into the pouch on its other leg. The tawny owl allows Tzuyu to stroke its feathers for a second before it spreads its wings with a soft hoot. Tzuyu watches it fly off, making a mental note to drop by the owlery and visit Gucci after she’s done with breakfast.

With that thought in mind, Tzuyu grabs a plate of scrambled eggs and begins to eat, skimming through the latest wizarding news in the paper. She’s in the middle of reading about 3Mix, a popular trio of Korean witches, and their latest single release when a tiny figure wrapped in a red and gold scarf materialises in her peripheral vision. 

“Good morning.” Tzuyu slides a bowl of cornflakes towards Chaeyoung’s direction, then watches with mild amusement as Chaeyoung piles a mountain of strawberries on top of her cereal before digging in with an appreciative moan.

“I already hate our first day back,” Chaeyoung mumbles around a full mouth of cornflakes. It’s only because they’ve been friends since their first year that Tzuyu understands the muffled noises her best friend is making. “I have Double Transfiguration and then Double Charms. I can already feel the headache building.”

Tzuyu steals a strawberry from Chaeyoung’s bowl, ignoring her garbled whine of protest. “You’re one of the best in our year at Transfiguration, Chaeng. And Professor Kim loves you — you can charm the socks right off that old man's feet and he’d just give you extra credit instead of detention.”

Chaeyoung swallows, and then lifts her bowl to her mouth to take a sip of milk. There's a milk moustache above her top lip when she puts the bowl down. “Yeah, but I heard the professors are going to come down harder on us this year. Cos it’s our O.W.L year or whatever.”

Tzuyu hums because she’s heard it too. She hands Chaeyoung a napkin from the basket on the table, and then folds the Daily Prophet before tucking it into her bag. Then, she grabs a few slices of buttered toast and wraps it up in another napkin before tucking it into her bag too. She has Double Potions with the Ravenclaws for first period and her other best friend is notorious for missing breakfast, preferring to sleep in up to the very last minute instead of getting some much-needed sustenance.

“See you for lunch?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t reply, or rather, can’t reply with her mouth full of cornflakes and strawberries again. She compromises and nods at Tzuyu while waving her off at the same time. Tzuyu leaves her to it, marvelling again at how Chaeyoung is perfectly unbothered to be the only Gryffindor currently having breakfast at the Slytherin table. But that’s how Chaeyoung is — unfazed and completely at ease in her own skin, the entire world be damned.  
  


/

  
  


Tzuyu enters the owlery to Gucci’s loud hoots; her owl is always more than happy to see her. He flies down from the rafters in a flurry of feathers and lands gracefully on Tzuyu’s outstretched wrist. Tzuyu rolls her eyes when Gucci cocks his head with a soft hoot, looking up at her with pleading eyes. She takes out a piece of toast from her bag and holds it out to him.

“I swear you’re only so happy to see me for the toast I bring you,” she gripes, but can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face when Gucci starts nibbling on the toast.

She’s stroking Gucci’s snow-white feathers when the door to the owlery bangs open, startling Tzuyu and all the owls. In the resulting mayhem, Tzuyu makes out a familiar figure standing on the threshold. 

Im Nayeon looks like an entirely different person from the one that had conjured a red sparkly dragon from her wand last night. For one, her tie is neatly in place, instead of wrapped around her head. And there’s no wild laughter this time, only a strained apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry.” Nayeon wrings her hands. There’s a hint of anxiety in her eyes that Tzuyu has never recalled seeing before. Because the Im Nayeon that Tzuyu knows has always been larger than life — nothing less than confident and sure. The stuff school legends are made of.

It makes Tzuyu feel wrong-footed, seeing a Nayeon that looks so completely vulnerable and a shell of her normal self. 

“It’s okay,” she offers uncertainly, trying to read the cause of Nayeon’s anxieties. “Are you — are you okay?”

“What?” Nayeon frowns, but is distracted immediately by something behind Tzuyu’s back. “There you are! Bam-ah,  _ come here _ .” 

Tzuyu whirls around and spots a small black owl with round amber yellow eyes high up on the rafters glaring down at Nayeon. It makes no move to fly over, instead turning its back on Nayeon and seemingly going straight back to sleep. 

“Bam-ah.” Nayeon crosses the room in hurried footsteps, skidding to a stop below the owl. “ _ Bam-ie _ .”

“Is that your owl?” Tzuyu can’t help asking, watching as Nayeon tries to coax the owl to come down from its perch.

“No.” Nayeon sighs, turning to look at Tzuyu with frustration now mixed in with the anxiety pooling in her eyes. “It’s one of Jeongyeon’s owls. Kkaengie — my eagle owl — turned up in the Great Hall with a broken wing and Professor Lee is trying to fix it now, but I wanted to send an owl to our usual healer, just in case. But Bam is always super grumpy and doesn’t want to come down for anyone that’s not Jeongyeon. I think he hates me but then again, her other owl, Nanan doesn’t quite like me either and —”

“You can use Gucci,” Tzuyu cuts in. She’s not sure what makes her offer because they aren’t even close, let alone friends. But something about the distressed look on Nayeon’s face makes a part of her heart ache. It’s not something that Tzuyu can understand or process right now.

“What?” Nayeon’s brow is wrinkled in confusion. She’s staring at Tzuyu like she’s trying to put together pieces of a puzzle without knowing what picture it makes.

“You can use Gucci,” Tzuyu repeats, gesturing at the owl on her wrist then offering Nayeon what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “He doesn’t mind.” 

After another second of hesitation, Nayeon holds out her arm. Gucci flies over without any prompting and stands perfectly still as Nayeon secures her letter to his leg. It’s like he’s trying to make a point, maybe to stubborn grumpy Bam or to just prove Tzuyu’s words right.

Either way, a tiny smile breaks out on Im Nayeon’s face. She strokes a finger over Gucci’s head. “He’s gorgeous. And so well-behaved.” 

“He can be when he wants to,” Tzuyu concedes. 

Together, they watch as Gucci spreads his wings and takes off through one of the open windows. When Gucci becomes nothing more than a speck against the treetops, Nayeon turns to her with a smile. It’s a shy, beautiful thing. And soft, like Nayeon is baring the most tender parts of her heart. 

“Thank you.” Nayeon holds out her hand for Tzuyu to take. “You’re Chou Tzuyu, right? Fifth-year? You play keeper on our Quidditch team.”

Nayeon’s hand is cool, her handshake firm. Her smile doesn’t waver when Tzuyu nods to confirm. 

“Thanks again, Tzuyu. I’m Im Nayeon.”

_ Yeah, I know who you are _ , Tzuyu thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, like an idiot, she shoves the rest of the buttered toast she had packed for Dahyun into Nayeon’s hand. “Here. I have some toast. I don’t think you had time to eat anything. You can have the toast.”

She feels colour bloom in her cheeks when Nayeon’s smile dissolves into genuine surprise. Before Nayeon can say anything else, Tzuyu mutters something about being late for Potions (even though the first bell won’t ring for another 30 minutes) and then hurries out of the owlery. 

Nayeon’s  _ see you around, Tzuyu _ rings after her, following Tzuyu’s hasty retreat like a promise fluttering on the wings of a butterfly. 

  
  


/

  
  


“I still can’t believe you didn’t bring me any toast.” 

Tzuyu glares at the other end of the bench, where Dahyun is pouting at her, seemingly more bothered about the lack of toast than her cauldron spewing out dark grey steam and a sulfurous odour. 

“I just forgot, okay?” Tzuyu says for the tenth time. She pretends she doesn’t feel the twinge of guilt in her stomach because she  _ did _ remember, only she gave it all to —

There’s a loud explosion from the other end of the classroom and a shout of pain as Han Jisung’s robes catch fire. Professor Jung doesn’t seem fazed, shooting a jet of water out of her wand at Jisung from where she’s standing at the front of the class. 

“You put too much powdered unicorn horn into your potion, Mr Han,” she says sternly, peering at Jisung over her glasses. “Run along to the hospital wing, please. Madam Pomfrey will give you something for that burn.”

After Jisung leaves, Professor Jung turns an icy glare to the rest of the class. “ _ Read _ the instructions carefully. The Draught of Peace is notoriously finicky — you need to follow the instructions  _ exactly _ .” 

Dahyun is still wearing a pout on her face but Tzuyu ignores her best friend, and peers into her cauldron instead. Everything seems to be going perfectly well. Her potion is the exact shade of turquoise her potions book describes. Carefully, Tzuyu mutters a spell to lower the flames underneath so that the potion inside is brought down to a simmer. She stirs it seven times clockwise, then seven times anti-clockwise, before dropping in precisely seven drops of Syrup of Hellebore. She waves her wand over the cauldron and murmurs the incantation written in the book. The potion bubbles for a second before silvery vapour wafts off the bright blue surface in mesmerising ribbons. She’s done. 

Tzuyu is satisfied to see that it looks exactly like the one Professor Jung has simmering at the front of the room. Potions has always been a subject she does well in; Tzuyu has never had any trouble with any of their assignments. It had surprised her at first, this natural flair for brewing potions despite being Muggle-born and lacking any magical upbringing. But now, Tzuyu just takes comfort in it, in the fact that maybe, she’s found her calling as a Potions Master.

Professor Jung notices the silvery vapour from Tzuyu’s cauldron — the only one in a sea of poorly brewed potions in the class. She nods approvingly, a rare smile on her face. “Well done, Miss Chou. Fifty points to Slytherin.”

Tzuyu bows politely, never one to indulge in over-the-top celebrations. She only cracks a smile when Dahyun nudges her with a wide grin and a double thumbs up. 

_ It  _ is _ kind of brilliant for a first attempt at brewing the Draught of Peace _ , Tzuyu thinks as she stares absently at the potion’s shimmering surface. Perfect for soothing anxieties. For some reason, a distressed Im Nayeon almost on the brink of tears, swims to the front of Tzuyu’s mind. Along with the thought that Nayeon could have definitely done with a sip or two of this Draught earlier in the owlery.

What doesn’t occur to Tzuyu though (or at least not yet) is the need to peel back the layers of her thoughts, if only to find out  _ why _ exactly Im Nayeon is floating to the front of her mind at a time when she should be celebrating her success in class instead.   
  


Later, when the bell rings and the class starts to pack their things, Professor Jung beckons Tzuyu to her desk. Tzuyu wonders if it’s because she wants to discuss Tzuyu joining her Advanced Potions class again, something she had offered Tzuyu last year only for Tzuyu to politely turn it down. It didn’t feel right joining a bunch of seventh-years for classes when she’s so much younger. 

Professor Jung makes no mention of Advanced Potions however, instead asking if Tzuyu’s still playing for the Slytherin Quidditch team this year. When Tzuyu nods in confirmation, she asks, “I assume just like last year, your Quidditch trainings are on Tuesday and Thursday evenings?” 

Professor Jung peers at Tzuyu over her glasses as Tzuyu shifts from one foot to the other, trying to remember her training schedule. “I think so, Professor.”

“Good. Then you’ll have time on Friday evenings to tutor a seventh-year student of mine.”

Tzuyu frowns. Of all the things she had expected the professor to ask of her, that had been the last thing on her list. And she’s only a  _ fifth-year _ . What in the world made Professor Jung think it’s a good idea for her to tutor a N.E.W.T-level student? Also, what kind of student chooses to study Advanced Potions at the N.E.W.T level if they’re  _ failing _ ? 

“With all due respect, Professor,” Tzuyu begins awkwardly. “I don’t think I’m the right person —“

“You’re the best student I’ve ever taught,” Professor Jung cuts in smoothly. “You’re already the best in your year and I know that if you’re tasked to brew a N.E.W.T-level potion, you’d have no trouble at all. That potion you brewed earlier was near  _ perfect _ and it was your  _ first try _ too. You have a rare talent, Miss Chou. That much is obvious.” 

Tzuyu can only stare, completely at a loss for words. It’s rare for Professor Jung, with her icy demeanour, to lavish such praise on anyone; and for her to say that Tzuyu brewed a near-perfect potion and is the best student she’s ever taught? 

Professor Jung seems to take pity on her and offers Tzuyu a small reassuring smile. “You’re  _ exactly _ the right person for the job.”

  
  


/

  
  


“Let me get this straight. Professor Jung asked  _ you _ to give Potions tuition?”

“Yes,” Tzuyu deadpans, glaring at Dahyun. They’ve been through this about a million times already since Tzuyu told them over lunch earlier.

“To a  _ seventh-year _ ?”

Tzuyu turns her glare to Chaeyoung. “ _ Yes _ .”

“Wow, that’s —”

“ _ Insane _ , is what it is,” Tzuyu mutters darkly. She presses down a little too hard on the parchment she’s writing on, the sharp edge of her quill tearing a gaping hole right through her Transfiguration essay. “I’m going to screw it up.”

“You’ve  _ never _ screwed up anything in your life, Chou Tzuyu,” Chaeyoung insists fiercely. 

At the same time, Dahyun waves her wand and mutters a quick spell to save Tzuyu’s ruined essay. She beams when Tzuyu thanks her. “You’ll do great!” 

  
  


/

  
  


Still, by the time Friday evening descends upon the castle, Tzuyu is starting to believe it less and less. Everything in her gut is telling her that this whole tutoring thing is going to end disastrously. 

The uneasy knot in her stomach only grows tighter when she walks into the Potions classroom when the clock strikes seven. There’s no one here yet; a small mercy for Tzuyu’s nerves. There are two cauldrons set up on a bench near the back of the classroom. Tzuyu walks over and claims one of them, setting her bag down.

The room is cold, especially at this time of the evening, so she goes around the room, lighting all the torches with her wand. She’s in the middle of setting the last torch on fire when the door to the room bangs open. Tzuyu lets out an undignified yelp and drops her wand in surprise. She bends down immediately to pick it up, feeling her cheeks grow hot from the embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice is saying somewhere above her. “I didn’t mean to bang the door like that. I always forget the doors in this old castle are a little loose around the hinges. I’ve been telling Sana for years that they need to get them all replaced or just use magic to —”

The voice trails off then a warm hand lands on Tzuyu’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Tzuyu tucks her wand into her robes. Swallowing, she straightens up and true enough, there’s Im Nayeon blinking up at her with a tiny worried crease between her brows.

“Hi,” Tzuyu says. She tries for a warm, welcoming smile but she’s not quite sure she manages it because Nayeon’s frown deepens.

A beat passes. Then two. The silence stretches awkwardly between them, pressing into Tzuyu’s eardrums in a way that makes her want to scream. Before she can open her mouth however, Nayeon’s frown dissolves into a wide bunny-toothed smile. 

“Chou Tzuyu!” Nayeon exclaims. “My saviour! Thank you again for letting me borrow Gucci. Are you going to save me from my terrible Potions grades too?”

Tzuyu stares.  _ Saviour? _

“Yes,” Tzuyu finally settles on saying. “I’m your…your Potions tutor, I guess.”

“Excellent!” The way Nayeon claps her hands together and looks like Christmas came early, is mildly concerning. Tzuyu is not sure she has the capacity to deal with such boundless enthusiasm. Her lip twitches when Nayeon flops into a seat at the bench, and places her school bag and her scarf dangerously close to the cauldron. Where an open  _ flame _ will be.

And Nayeon doesn’t even realise it, beaming expectantly up at Tzuyu like she’s the sun. “So, what potion are we making today, Professor Chou?” 

Tzuyu reaches out and moves Nayeon’s bag and scarf onto an empty seat. “Don’t — Just Tzuyu. Just Tzuyu will do.”

  
  


Tzuyu watches carefully out of the corner of her eye as Nayeon adds the chopped Valerian root to her cauldron and prods at the flame with her wand to apply high heat. They had settled on a system where Nayeon is supposed to follow exactly what Tzuyu does. It’s like cooking side by side. Except Nayeon, Tzuyu quickly finds out, has absolutely no idea what she’s doing. 

They’re making a Sleeping Draught, a standard potion taught to every second-year student at Hogwarts. It’s supposed to be easy, a revision of the basics of sorts. But Nayeon is now struggling with her Flobberworm like she’s never had to juice one before in her life. 

“Ergh, this  _ fucking _ slippery stupid worm is —” Nayeon huffs, squeezing her worm to the point of bursting and yet yielding none of the thick mucus needed for the potion. 

“Stop.  _ Stop. _ ” Tzuyu reaches out and grabs Nayeon’s wrist, forcing her to let the poor Flobberworm go. “Have you never juiced one before? There are dozens of potions that require Flobberworm mucus as an ingredient.”

Nayeon flushes, averting her gaze from Tzuyu’s searching one. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like  _ Sana always juices them for me.  _

“You just need to hold it on one end, and then with your other hand, gently pinch it and coax your fingers down the worm. There’s no need to  _ squeeze _ it.”

Tzuyu demonstrates and then hands Nayeon a worm, watching as Nayeon follows her instructions with a furrowed look of concentration on her face. 

“See, not so hard, right?” Tzuyu offers an encouraging smile to the older girl. 

Nayeon’s lips quirk ever so slightly. But it doesn’t dim the sudden determined glint in her eye, like she’s steeling herself to not make another silly mistake.

  
  


They don’t talk after the Flobberworm Incident, quietly brewing their potions. Nayeon watches her carefully, only lagging half a beat behind Tzuyu as they work through the rest of the steps.

“Okay, we’re almost done. Just wave your wand over your cauldron. The incantation is in the book.” Tzuyu finally breaks the silence. She points at the book on the bench between them. “I need to go to the washroom, I’ll be right back.”

Nayeon hums to show she’s heard even though her full attention seems to be on the book. Tzuyu hesitates for a second; but surely Nayeon can complete a simple spell without messing it up? 

As if sensing Tzuyu’s thoughts, Nayeon looks up from the book and smiles at her, soft and reassuring. “I’ll be fine, Tzuyu. Go. It’s not good to hold your pee. You’ll get an infection.”

Nayeon breaks into loud boisterous laughter when Tzuyu rolls her eyes, like she’s delighted she managed to get that reaction out of Tzuyu. The sound follows Tzuyu out of the Potions room like the last lingering notes of a song or maybe a warning signal, Tzuyu can’t really decide.  
  


Five minutes later, it becomes apparent that she should have trusted her gut, because she comes back to a  _ mess _ . Somehow, in the time it had taken her in the washroom, Nayeon’s potion had exploded all over their work bench, the floor and Nayeon herself. Nayeon, who is now slumped against the wall, clearly passed out.

Panic rises in Tzuyu’s veins at the sight, wrapping around her ribs and squeezing tight until she can barely breathe. She runs over to Nayeon, almost slipping on the puddle of Sleeping Draught on the floor. Thankfully, Nayeon is still breathing — her pulse is steady underneath Tzuyu’s trembling fingers.

For a moment, Tzuyu is at a complete loss. She’s not strong enough to carry Nayeon up to the hospital wing by herself, and a part of her is also afraid of moving Nayeon and injuring her. She decides, after minutes of trying to collect her thoughts, that the best course of action is to just wait. 

Nayeon didn’t ingest the Sleeping Draught anyway, so its effects would wear off in minutes instead of hours. 

Carefully, Tzuyu moves Nayeon into a more comfortable position. She bundles up her scarf and then uses it to cradle Nayeon’s head. Then she sits beside Nayeon and waits.

  
  


The torches are flickering, the flames dying down considerably, by the time Nayeon stirs. Tzuyu is instantly alert, straightening and watching with bated breath as Nayeon’s eyelashes quiver, and then her eyes blink open.

“Where — Tzuyu? What happened?”

“Your potion exploded,” Tzuyu informs her curtly. It comes out harsher than she intended, but she ignores the twinge of guilt beneath her breast bone because god, what if Nayeon’s robes had caught on fire, or she had smacked her head open on the floor and died from a fucking brain bleed?

Nayeon is still very much sleep-drunk — Tzuyu can see how her mind is still cobwebbed with confusion and the after effects of the potion. She knows she should go easy on Nayeon, and probably check to see if she’s feeling okay. But what comes out of her mouth instead are serrated words, heavy with layers of annoyance and irritation.

“How the hell are you so completely  _ rubbish _ at Potions? You’re a  _ seventh-year _ .” 

A shadow flickers across Nayeon’s pale features and settles in the pools of her eyes. There’s a haunted kind of look in them now that should be warning enough to Tzuyu to back off. But she’s never been good at reading subtleties. And even less adept at it when she’s trying to process the stubborn tangle of emotions in her chest that refuses to unravel ever since she walked into the classroom to find Nayeon unconscious. 

“Maybe if you don’t waste your time acting like an  _ idiot _ and learning how to make sparkly dragons from your wand, you can actually brew a decent potion and use the correct incantation!” Tzuyu’s voice rises in her exasperation, cutting through the air with sharp, jagged edges. 

There’s a ringing silence that follows immediately after, long enough for the guilt in Tzuyu’s chest to grow unchecked like a forest fire — one that burns through her and leaves the taste of ash in her mouth. The flames fan stronger when streaks of hurt flash across Nayeon’s face for the briefest of seconds before her entire expression goes carefully blank, tempered with the coldness of forced indifference.

Without another word, Nayeon gets up and stumbles out of the room, still unsteady and sleep-drunk. The heavy wooden door slams shut behind her with a deafening echo. 

Tzuyu is left staring at the space where Nayeon had been before her brain catches up again. Quickly, Tzuyu grabs her own bag and Nayeon’s things, and then hurries after the older girl, praying that Nayeon hasn’t gone too far or accidentally injured herself again as she navigates through the castle. 

  
  


It doesn’t take her long to catch sight of Nayeon, swaying slightly on her feet as she makes her way down the flight of stairs that leads to their common room. A warning roots itself in Tzuyu’s throat but it’s too late. She watches with mounting horror as Nayeon misses a step and loses her footing completely.

With reflexes borne out of years of Quidditch training, Tzuyu pulls out her wand and transfigures the last few steps into soft pillows, just in time to cushion Nayeon’s fall. 

Heart in her throat, Tzuyu runs over, almost slipping down the steps herself. “Are you okay?”

Nayeon only groans feebly in response, face pressed into one of the pillows and looking very much worse for wear. She doesn’t protest when Tzuyu curls an arm around her waist and helps her to sit up. 

“I’m sorry,” Nayeon mumbles, then lets out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. “I keep making things difficult for you.” 

The guilt is unbearable now and Tzuyu feels ashamed too, at the way she had treated Nayeon earlier. “No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have — I shouldn’t have said any of that. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I was way out of line.”

Nayeon doesn’t say anything for a full minute, absorbing Tzuyu’s apology or maybe taking it apart in her mind so that she can point out all the ways Tzuyu shouldn’t be forgiven. Which Tzuyu knows she fully deserves. 

“It’s okay, Tzuyu,” Nayeon finally says, turning to Tzuyu with a muted smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re right. I should put in more effort. Potions is just —”

Nayeon breaks off and that same haunted look from earlier settles into her eyes again. This time, Tzuyu is mindful of the shadows, mindful of the hints of darkness Nayeon seems to keep folded in her heart when it comes to Potions and her inability to excel at the subject. 

“It’s okay,” she says softly when Nayeon visibly struggles to find the words to continue. “We all have things we’re not good at. For example, I’m really bad at cooking. I tried to make  _ Dan Bing _ for breakfast once over the summer and burnt it so badly I set off the fire alarm.”

“ _ Dan Bing _ ?” Nayeon echoes, tilting her head in confusion and tripping over the foreign syllables.

“It’s a breakfast egg crepe thing from Taiwan, where my parents are from. I tried adding some cheese and ham and pork floss to the crepe but I ended up burning all of it.” 

“It sounds good though!” Nayeon’s eyes are sparkling now, the shadows long faded away. 

“I’ll bring some for you to try one day,” Tzuyu promises, if only to see Nayeon’s face light up even more. 

Then she takes a deep breath and confesses quietly, “I’m also really bad at expressing myself. Whenever I feel worried or panic about anything, I either shut down completely or… I sometimes sort of explode and lash out irrationally.”

Nayeon is quiet again, absorbing Tzuyu’s confession for a few seconds before she reaches out and takes Tzuyu’s hand. She squeezes it reassuringly. “I’m not great at dealing with my emotions either. And I really am sorry for worrying you earlier, Tzuyu. It must have been scary when you came back to find me knocked out by my own potion.”

Tzuyu doesn’t deny the truth in Nayeon’s words, but she also doesn’t want to hold onto that memory any longer. Not when there’s a tentative blossoming of new beginnings and friendship stirring the space between them. So she settles for squeezing Nayeon’s hand in turn and offering her a crinkled, dimpled smile.

  
  


“For what it’s worth,” Tzuyu says later when they’re saying goodbye at the door to the fifth-year room, “I thought your sparkly dragon was kind of cool, actually.”

Nayeon’s face transforms into a look of delighted surprise. She beams up at Tzuyu, eyes turned crescent-shaped and an easy smile on her lips. 

“Right?!” Nayeon exclaims. “It took me all summer to perfect the dragon and finally shut Jeongyeon up. Just because she could make a perfect little sparkly puppy from her wand by the time we were in our second year, she’s been holding it over my head forever. So I thought I’d show her once and for all.”

Tzuyu can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face. There’s something about Nayeon’s delight and enthusiasm, and her fiery competitiveness with one of her best friends over the silliest thing, that’s kind of a joy to witness. Tzuyu tries not to read too much into how or why she finds the sight completely endearing.

“Yeah, it was a pretty impressive bit of magic,” Tzuyu agrees.  _ Cute _ , her mind echoes when Nayeon’s grin widens triumphantly, showing off her bunny teeth.

  
  


/

  
  


They settle into an easy routine over the next few weeks, with no exploding potions, trouble with juicing Flobberworms, or unwarranted outbursts.

Instead, Friday nights become the highlight of Tzuyu’s week. There’s a comforting undercurrent to all their interactions now; it keeps Tzuyu warm even in the cold Potions room. 

That, and maybe the way Nayeon cracks little jokes as they pass the time brewing potions. And maybe, there’s something too about the shape of Nayeon’s laugh which has somehow rooted itself in Tzuyu’s heart in a way that feels too large for her chest and too heavy to put a name to. 

  
  


/

  
  


It’s a lovely Saturday morning, with warm sun rays breaking through a cover of fluffy white clouds. The air is buzzing with the kind of excitement that only the first Hogsmeade weekend can bring. 

Tzuyu trails after Chaeyoung and Dahyun as they make their way out of the castle grounds. She's only half-listening as they squabble on which shop to visit first when they get to Hogsmeade. It’s a worn and familiar argument thatTzuyu has heard every Hogsmeade weekend since they were third-years. She doesn’t understand why her best friends rehash it every time when the outcome is always the same.

“Okay!” Dahyun exclaims the moment a hint of a pout forms on Chaeyoung’s face. “We’ll go to Scrivenshaft’s first to get your coloured quills and paint set. But you owe me a pack of Chocoballs if they run out of my favourite chocolate bar by the time we get to Honeydukes.”

“They won’t run out. They have a whole storeroom full of chocolates.” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. Then she links arms with Dahyun and shoots her a wide dimpled smile. “You’re the best, Dahyunnie!” 

Dahyun lets out a sound that’s somewhere in between a snort and a scoff. But she doesn’t pull her arm away or make any move to force Chaeyoung to dislodge her grip. The corner of her lips are quirked slightly, indulgent and more than a little bit fond.

Tzuyu opens her mouth to slip in a tease or two but she never gets the chance. There’s a loud shout of her name from somewhere behind them. 

Her heart skips a beat, like it’s been doing lately every time Nayeon’s voice wraps around the syllables of her name like a gentle caress. Except this time, it’s a panicked yell loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Tzuyu turns around, already knowing who she’ll find — Im Nayeon, running in her direction, robes flapping in the chilly autumn wind. Nayeon’s face is pinched in distress and Tzuyu’s mind conjures up the memory of a sunlit morning in the owlery almost two months ago when Nayeon had a similar look on her face.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on the memory though. Her heart, the treacherous thing, skips another beat when Nayeon stumbles the last few steps or so. And then somehow she has an armful of Im Nayeon. Tzuyu’s brain short-circuits but for some unfathomable reason, she manages to retain enough lucidity to register the sweet scent of Nayeon’s favoured perfume. Roses with a hint of something fruity. Raspberry maybe. 

It takes far too long for her mind to swim out of the quicksand caused by being in such close proximity to Nayeon. Her face is tinged red by the time she untangles her arms from around Nayeon’s waist and takes a tiny step back.

She ignores the way everyone, her best friends included, is staring at them and watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled interest. 

“Are you okay?” Tzuyu asks in a quiet voice, meant for Nayeon’s ears only. 

“I need your help. It’s — Kookeu’s injured and —” Nayeon breaks off, her lip quivering and warm brown eyes splintering with tears. 

Tzuyu has no idea  _ what _ a Kookeu is, but it doesn’t matter. Somehow, Tzuyu is not quite sure how or when exactly it all began: everything else eclipsed by the yearning to do anything for Nayeon. To do whatever it takes so that Nayeon’s sun can rise and shine on her again. 

“I’ll see you guys later for dinner,” Tzuyu murmurs at her friends, once again choosing to ignore the bewilderment that passes across both their faces before matching, teasing grins flash simultaneously in her direction.

She turns her back before either of them can say a word, focusing instead on the distraught girl in front of her. Tzuyu offers her best, most reassuring smile and is pleased to see the palpable tension in Nayeon’s entire body wane just a little. 

“Let’s go.” 

  
  


Kookeu, as it turns out, is the fluffiest Niffler Tzuyu has ever laid eyes on. She stares at the black and white furball cradled in Nayeon’s arms. Kookeu’s entire body is trembling and he’s whimpering, as if in pain. As Nayeon coos soothingly at him, Tzuyu realises with a jolt that there’s a deep, nasty cut running the length of Kookeu’s front leg. 

“I managed to stop the bleeding,” Nayeon murmurs as Tzuyu kneels down to take a closer look at the wound. “But we ran out of Essence of Dittany. Professor Lee’s away this weekend and I think he forgot to make more before he left and I forgot to remind him too. It was all going fine at first, I was just finishing up my observations with all the Nifflers for my final thesis project. Then I gave them food and that must have been when Kookeu somehow escaped — when I was busy feeding the rest. He must have hit some jagged rock or  _ something _ because he came back all bleeding and I just — I’m still  _ rubbish _ at potions and I can’t —”

Tzuyu lays her hand on one of Nayeon’s hands, gently interrupting her panicked string of thoughts. “I’ll make it. Do you know where Professor Lee keeps all his potion ingredients?”

“Back in his storeroom, where he stores the food for all the magical creatures.” 

“Okay,” Tzuyu says softly, taking a few seconds to stroke Kookeu’s long snout. Then she looks up and meets Nayeon’s tremulous gaze with a steady, unwavering smile. “I’ll be right back. Then we can heal Kookeu’s wound, okay?”

  
  


Carefully, Tzuyu measures out three ounces of Blended Dittany Extract and adds it to the cauldron. Almost immediately, yellow steam wafts off the surface of the potion, just like what's described in Professor Lee’s notes. Tzuyu waits precisely thirty seconds before she gently stirs the potion seven times anti-clockwise and then waves her wand over the cauldron until the potion transforms into a shimmering brown liquid. Satisfied, she lowers the flames underneath the cauldron and puts her wand down on the table.

“You’re really magical with Potions, Tzuyu,” Nayeon comments, a shade of unmistakable wonder in her voice. 

Tzuyu looks up, gaze finding Nayeon easily at the other end of the storeroom, still cradling Kookeu protectively in her arms. The Niffler had fallen asleep sometime after Tzuyu had started brewing the Essence of Dittany.

There are words that are trying to take shape in Tzuyu’s mind. Words that pull at her heart, trying to create constellations out of the layers of stardust floating in Tzuyu’s chest that appear every time Nayeon is in her orbit.

It feels like something important. Something far too significant just waiting to break free from the confines of Tzuyu’s ribs.

“It just comes naturally to me, I guess,” Tzuyu offers instead, busying herself with bottling some of the brewed Essence — a distraction from the way her heartbeat has started to pound, a thundering rhythm in her ears. 

With the bottle in hand, Tzuyu rounds the table and kneels beside the chair Nayeon is sitting in. She reaches out and coos softly at Kookeu, stroking his head for a few seconds when he blinks blearily at her. 

“It’s okay, Kookeu,” Nayeon soothes when Kookeu whimpers, making little distressed noises when Tzuyu applies drops of the Essence on his wound. Tzuyu’s heart warms at the tender way Nayeon comforts Kookeu, at the way she clearly loves and cares for him. 

“It’s okay,” Nayeon repeats over Kookeu’s whine of pain. “This pretty girl will make you feel all better.”

Tzuyu’s face burns hot at the unexpected compliment ( _ pretty? _ ) but she pretends she doesn’t hear it, keeping her eyes focused on the wound on Kookeu’s leg. After a few more drops, Tzuyu caps the bottle and puts it aside. 

She watches as the wound heals itself, layers of muscle and skin stitching together in cobweb threads from one end of the gaping wound to the other before the cut closes up seamlessly. Magically. 

“Amazing,” Nayeon breathes, voice heavy with that same shade of unmistakable wonder Tzuyu had noticed earlier.

“It is, isn’t it? I always think Essence of Dittany is one of the most useful potions —“ Tzuyu breaks off when she looks up to find Nayeon staring straight at her. 

There is something fierce in the strength of her gaze, in the way her eyes glimmer with the light of a thousand stars as she studies Tzuyu’s face. Like Tzuyu is the most magical thing she has ever laid eyes upon in the entire universe.

Inexplicably, Tzuyu’s world tilts on its axis and then falls right into place. It strikes her all at once, leaving Tzuyu breathless in its wake — the significant thing that’s been trying to break free from her ribs. The words that have been trying to make shapes out of her scattered emotions.

_ It’s you. I think you’re the one who’s amazing.  _

_ And I think I’m starting to fall for you. _

**Author's Note:**

> @skyclectic on twitter and curious cat.
> 
> so, come drop by to say hi or share your thoughts or ask me anything, really. <3


End file.
